Distraction
by planet p
Summary: AU; there are things she knows but doesn’t want to think about, so she waits for a phone call to distract her for a while.


**Distraction** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

* * *

Maybe they all assume she's ignorant (or stupid), maybe they don't; it matters very little either way. She knows that Angelo isn't her brother, and she knows that Lyle isn't, either. She has a twin – _yes_ – but it's neither of them: but she'd rather it was Angelo over Lyle any day!

She tries to work out their angle: why does the Center want her brother to be one of their people, but the answer to that, in the end, is very simple: so she won't run off with Jarod (he's more a friend to her than they are; he's more a friend to shared experiences, to her state of mind), or just leave them. They think they'll be giving her an emotional anchor; they'll just be giving her one big headache!

She'd tried to deny it in as many ways as she could, but she'd always known there was a secret, something her mother was keeping from her simply by refraining from ever filling the spaces, from ever speaking the words. Or, as it was, the word (a name): Theodore. That is her brother's name; it is on his Birth Certificate (and his Death Certificate). It never changes; it's always Theodore Elroy Parker. So she knows Lyle is either deluded or a liar; and, as she _knows_ he is both, she wonders which he is more in this case: does he actually think they are siblings?

She doesn't correct him: not ever. When she finds her real twin, she doesn't want anyone knowing about him but her. She's not going to let them (or Lyle) take care of him like they took care of Thomas (or Catherine).

Given that he believes them to be siblings, his attitude toward her both astonishes and worries her (maybe that's an exaggeration, or one of those auto-responses, the sort you know you're supposed to have so you go, _Oh_, and quickly fill in the blank: she'd worry if he was someone else; she just knows he's fucked up and to watch out for him). What is the worst is that she has to _act_ like she gives a damn; like she's bought their stupid, crappy lie!

She hasn't!

She never will (try as they all might)!

Sometimes, she makes a promise to herself that one day she'll get down to it and actually try to find her twin, but, underneath all of the lies she's scared that he's really dead; that he's just not there. She's scared that that's the reason he left her in the first place: the reason she got mad and 'banished' him. But she'd never heard his Voice (he never spoke, but she pretends she doesn't remember _that_), and she takes hope: she's got to have hope: she's got a family who'll care for her if they only knew her!

They were only four, maybe he forgot her: that's what she tells herself.

In her mind, she asks herself questions about him: does he have a family? What is his job? Does he call himself Theodore, or something else? Theo? (It doesn't sound as 'old' as Theodore.) Or maybe Teo, which means 'twin' in Vietnamese.

She tries to figure out why Catherine named him Theodore: is that their real father's name? Or does it mean something else? She's looking for clues, but maybe there aren't any. (Real life isn't like Jarod thinks it is, sometimes there are no clues.)

It's not like she's lonely (she's not wanting for a sibling: she has Ethan), but she still wonders about her twin: she tries to think of Reagan as her 'little brother' (which really means 'nephew'), but it never quite works: he's Lyle's kid, not her twin's (she can't believe it). He's a nice kid, not like his father, and it hurts her not to be able to move past his genetics, but she can't help it. She wonders why: the same dispute is still going on: is Mr. Parker her father or isn't he? It's never made her think differently of him: he's still her father.

Sometimes, she feels like taking Lyle aside and asking him honestly, but honesty isn't in his deck of playing cards. Sometimes, she even thinks he couldn't do it (even if he'd wanted to); that he'd just lie again: because that's what he'd always done. She supposes she's had an advantage there; she's always made very certain to know her lies and to know her truths, and never to mix the two. She imagines that there'd been something that'd muddled all that up very early on for him: mistreatment, probably.

She still can't bring herself to feeling sympathy for him: he's not a kid anymore, and, what's more, he counts himself as an intelligent person. She's always expected more of an intelligent person that of one who was otherwise: there're still traps to fall into, and they might be bigger or less obvious (or they might not be), but, for a _thinking_ person, there should always be a way out.

She tries to tell herself that it's been that way for her, but it never has, not even from the start: when she'd gotten out (or hadn't gotten out, after all: plans fall through) it'd always been at the expense of someone who cared for her: there's too many to count, she supposes. She thinks, _There's always been someone who loved you! Can't you just let that be enough, for once, Mel! Can't you stop obsessing over your miserable life? There's been so many, and yet it's still always been miserable – it's like you love to dwell on the bad things and pretend the good things aren't there at all. Get over it! This is real: it's not one of _their_ games – it's _your_ life!_

She's a thinking person, and she can think this well enough, but it never changes how she _feels_. She wonders if it should; if she should see someone, talk to someone, get it out there. Maybe Sydney. But how could she explain it all to Sydney? She works with him; he _thinks_ he _knows_ her! Would he be too biased already, or would he be okay with it? Would she want to tell him anyway?

She waits for Jarod's call: when she'll have someone else to tell her about their life.


End file.
